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   O'tay! Here's another one by me. I take great pride in being sure my
   dates are correct so this should be set properly as far as the series
   goes. I'm currently in writer's limbo waiting for Scully to return so
   this could be considered my "Scully's missing" contribution. 
   Originally, this story had followed a completely different plot but,
   I lost interest and it started to sound like it was rambling so I
   changed it. Anyway, let me know what you think!                                                        
   
(This story is based on the characters and situations created by Cris
Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without
permission and no infringement is intended.)

			  In the End
			      By.
			  Karen D. Enriquez
			  (SciNut@aol.com) 10/26/94

***

Tuesday November 9, 1993....

    The 747 lifted off gracefully from Seattle, Washington and Special
Agent Fox Mulder finally relaxed into the seat with a sigh. He and Scully
were finally out of Alaska. If he had a choice, he'd never go back there
again.
    They were on their way back to D.C. and away from the arctic winds,
snow, ice and those parasites. Mulder was still angry over the fact that
the military had destroyed the Arctic Ice Core Project complex but there
was nothing to be done about it now. He would've liked to have studied the
parasite in greater detail. He sighed again.
    "You okay, Mulder?" Scully asked from the seat next to him.
    "Yeah. Why?" Mulder replied turning to face her.
    "You look a little depressed," She answered with a clinical stare.
    He gave her a small smile. " Why would you say that?"
    "Well... you've sighed, loudly, six times in the last five minutes."
    "Oh? Really, it's nothing."
    "Come on, Mulder." She said exasperated. "You can talk to me."
    He turned and looked out the window. Was he depressed? He didn't feel
depressed. He caught himself before he sighed again. "Really, Scully. I
don't feel depressed."
    "You can't fool me, Mulder." Scully said teasingly. "What is it? 
Girl trouble?"
    "What's a girl?"Mulder replied with a genuine smile."Which reminds me... 
why didn't you go out with that guy?"
    "What guy?" Scully asked.
    "The pilot that flew us in from Nome? I know he asked you out."
    "Oh, you mean Brian?" Scully replied.
    "Whatever." Mulder said unclasping his seatbelt as the little light at
the front of the plane went out. "Quit trying to avoid the question."
    Scully hesitated before answering, "There was no time."
    "Oh, please."Mulder said with that tone he used whenever he was teasing
her. "We had a twelve hour layover in Seattle. What's the real reason?"
    She sighed and grinned. At least Mulder was smiling now and not looking
so depressed. "Okay, okay. I just wasn't interested."
    "Why not? He was a good looking guy." 
    "Oh, really?" Scully said with upward traveling eyebrows. "You
notice those things?"
    "You know what I meant."
    Scully smirked. "Yeah, I know." She paused. "Brian may have been
attractive but he was a jerk. He kept calling me 'Honey.'" Scully shivered.
    Mulder chuckled. "Oh, yes. What a flake." He paused and eyed her
uncertainly. He wasn't sure how she'd would take his next comment. "Well,
it's really too bad. You could've used a date."
    Scully looked at Mulder shocked. Did he really say that? "Really.
What makes you say that?"
    "Well... I mean, you could use a little..." His voice trailed off.
    "A little *what*, Mulder?" Scully said starting to sound defensive.
    He gave her a full fledged smile. A rare one that reached his eyes
and made them sparkle with mischief. "You know... a *little.*"
    "Like you're one to talk," Scully said, releaved that he was still
kidding. "At least I've had a date in the recent past."
    "Ouch," Mulder responded.
    "When was the last time you were with a woman?" Scully asked unable
to resist. He was about to respond when Scully cut him off. "I mean women
without the glossy photo finish."
    He mimed being shot to the heart. "Oh, Scully. You wound me." He
paused thinking. "Well... there was that time in Oregon..."
    "I don't count either, Mulder." Scully said quickly feeling the
beginnings of a blush. She was hoping to forget about the time she'd gone
into Mulder's hotel room, in her undergarments, to have him look at a
blemish on her back. At the time, she thought she had gotten whatever was
killing those college students. Instead, they turned out to be nothing more
than mosquito bites. She'd been releaved at the time, but it seemed Mulder
always brought it up because he knew it embarrassed her.
    "Now you're making it hard." Mulder replied as his eyebrows creased
in deep pseudo-thought. "What month is this?... Oh, jeez... now I *am*
depressed. I hope you're happy."
    "Perfectly," She responded.
    They fell into a companionable silence. It was rare that Mulder found
anyone who could just sit with him and not feel the need for any
conversation. He tended to make people uncomfortable. More often than not,
Mulder just wanted to sit silently, lost in his own thoughts. He realized
that he was glad Blevins had assigned Scully to work with him.
    At first, Mulder didn't trust her. After all, she had been sent to spy
on his activities. But she had soon proved that she wasn't just one of the
boss's cronies. She wanted to find the truth as much as he did. Although,
their interpretations of the available evidence tended to differ. Sometimes,
her unwavering skepticism frustrated him. In the end, however, Scully had
become a good friend.
    Mulder felt himself completely relax. To him, the feeling was almost
foreign. But he welcomed the odd sensation and he turned again to stare out
the window of the aircraft. He leaned his head back against the seat and
soon found himself drifting off. Now, why can't I do this at home? He
thought to himself as he gave in to blissful unconsciousness.
    Scully silently watched as Mulder fell asleep and felt a strange sense
of melancholy settle over her. She had only known him for a couple of months
but she already knew the kinds of emotional and physical problems he was
facing. Not only did he have trouble falling asleep but he had trouble
staying asleep.  Of course, he'd never mentioned he had problems sleeping
but, she knew. And he worked too much, though obsessive people usually did.
    Scully suddenly found herself wondering what he'd been like before he
had stumbled across the X-files. She remembered him telling her that he'd
found them by accident and the subsequent research that lead him to Dr.
Werber and the hypno-regression therapy. However, he never got around to
mentioning how learning the 'true' nature of his sister's disappearance had
changed his life.
    Had he always had trouble sleeping? Had he always been so obsessive?
Had he still been grieving over his sister or had he dealt with her loss
before he'd undergone hypnosis? Was he now grieving all over again? It
pained her to think he may have put his sister's disappearance behind him
and then to have it so rudely thrust back into his thoughts.
    She knew Mulder's co-workers had always thought he was a little strange.
She'd heard the stories about 'Spooky' Mulder when she'd first entered the
FBI Academy. Of course, at that time, 'Spooky' referred to his uncanny
investigative skills. She'd known then that Mulder was an... interesting
person. There had been a time when Mulder had been held in high regard by
the FBI chain of command. There had been remarks, on more than one
occasion, that he was destined for influential positions in the Bureau.
But now, disappointment and not praise was heard in the same sentence
regarding Fox Mulder.
    She heard him emit a quiet sound, almost a whimper, and glanced back
at him. Subtle traces of perspiration could be seen on his forehead. Was
he having a nightmare already? She looked at her watch. He been sleeping
for just over an hour. She felt all of her maternal instincts rise to the
surface as he shifted slightly in his seat.
    Suddenly, he flinched and his eyes snapped open. He blinked several
times, disoriented. Finally, as the familiarity of the surrounding settled
in, he glanced at his watch and sighed.
    "You okay?" Scully asked concerned.
    "Fine,"was his distanced response as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
    But she saw the pain that seemed to perpetually be in his eyes, the
pain she had managed to remove only a short time ago, return and settle in
to stay. The slump had returned to his shoulders. He looked defeated and it
saddened her that this was normal for him as long as she had known him.
Maybe she could pull him out of it again.
    "So, Mulder... do you have any plans for the holidays?" Scully asked.
It was, after all, November.
    But the question did not have the desired effect. Instead of drawing
away his pained expression, the question added a deeper sadness. 
    "No," his response was barely loud enough to be a whisper. "No plans."
    Scully had known Mulder had been estranged from his family but she
hadn't known how badly. "Mulder," she said sympathetically. "I hope I'm not
prying but, when was the last time you spent the holidays with your family?"
    He exhaled a long breath, thinking. "I think it was... the year before
I left for England."
    Scully was shocked. She couldn't imagine spending Thanksgiving or
Christmas without her family. Even though her parents were disappointed
with her choice of career they still supported her. She looked forward to
seeing her brothers and their families as well. Although, her brothers
tended, sometimes, to act like... brothers. But Mulder had no one, no
girlfriend and no family. She was, literally, all he had.
    Scully looked over at him. Mulder had taken to looking out the window
again.    "Mulder?" 
    "What?" He responded turning back to her.
    "Would you like to have Thanksgiving dinner with my family?" Was it
right to offer? She wondered. Would he understand it for what it was?
    Mulder stared back at her somewhat taken aback. "No," he answered
sounding unsure. "But thank you."
    Scully was surprised that she felt a little hurt. "Why not? You don't
have any other plans, right?"
    "I... I wouldn't want to intrude."
    "You won't be intruding. Actually, my mother had asked me to ask you
the last time I spoke with her." Scully responded. She knew she had him
hooked.  Scully could tell that he really didn't want to spend the holidays
alone this year. She could hear the want in his voice. "I told her about
you shortly after we started working together." She confessed in answer to
Mulder's questioning gaze.
    "I'm afraid to ask but... exactly what did you tell her?"
    "You don't want to know." Scully answered trying to fan the spark of
humor she saw in his eyes. She was rewarded by a small smile. "Seriously,
my family won't mind. You know... The more the merrier."
    He sighed still looking unsure.
    "Mulder, you're my partner and my friend. You should meet my family... 
so they'll have a reference when I start to rant."
    "You're not going to leave me alone until I agree, are you?"
    She grinned, seeing his good mood returning. "Probably not."
    "They won't embarrass me or anything, will they?" Mulder asked.
    "Don't count on it. They'll have too much fun embarrassing me."
    "As long as they show baby pictures," Mulder responded.
    "Are you kidding? They'll give you a slide show." She replied.

***

Friday August 12, 1994...

	...In the end he'd backed out. He would've liked not spending
Thanksgiving alone but he had known it wouldn't have been appropriate.
It wouldn't have been professional. And now, he regretted it.
He regretted not meeting Scully's father. He regretted having to met her
mother under the conditions that he had. His whole life was filled with
regrets and there was nothing he could do about it.
His sigh sounded remarkably loud in the empty office. They'd reopened the
X-files and he'd moved back into the basement. Though Skinner had offered
a different office, to Mulder it just didn't feel right. He would've felt
like he were abandoning everything he'd fought so hard for if he left the
basement.
    He looked around the office. Dust covered his desk, which looked rather
odd without the assortment of paperwork that had normally hid its surface.
The walls were bare of the posters, photographs and news articles that he'd
collected. The office looked vacant and lonely as if it had been neglected
and was holding a grudge.
    Sitting in the center of the floor were a stack of boxes that Mulder
knew were filled with case files. He was going to spend the next several
hours re-filing all of X-files into his strange personal filing system.
The one that had taken Scully three months to figure out. He smiled,
bittersweet, at the painfully strong ache that he felt surface.
    He could almost hear her berating him, "Why can't you file these
things alphabetically? Why do you have to make it so difficult?"
    "Because," he said out loud in answer. "Then I wouldn't be able to
find anything."
    She hadn't understood then but she had threatened to re-organize
everything on him just so he'd know how it felt.
    Slowly, his smile faded. It wasn't right to be here putting everything
back into order without her. She should be here, now, arguing to
alphabetize the files instead of using his system. But she wasn't.
    Mulder sank to his knees. He should've been home when she'd called.
He should've been home. If he'd been home he may have been able to help her.
No, he knew he could've helped her. He should've been home when she'd called.
    He needed her. She had been his anchor to reality. She'd forced him to
look at the rational explanations first. She'd forced him to solidly prove
the things he'd seen. And that solid proof had most likely gotten her killed.
    Mulder shakily got back to his feet. If he kept thinking along those
lines he'd wind up a useless puddle of grief, guilt and self-pity on the
floor. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened the first box.
    "You win, Scully. Alphabetically it is."
    
End.

This story is based on the characters created by Cris Carter, Ten Thirteen
Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement 
is intended.